Dream Woman
by ebon-drake
Summary: Lotor has a cryptic dream of someone he once knew and someone who he has yet to meet. Sets place before Lotor even steps foot on Arus. Contains mild language. Complete.


**Disclaimer:** Voltron and all of its characters and settings are copyrighted by World Event Productions, Ltd. and Toei Animation Company. Original characters and plots are the brain-children of me, the author. I am in no way affiliated with the aforementioned companies. No monetary profit is being made from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please do not do not repost or reuse this work without obtaining my permission first. Thank you.

**Author's Note:** I haven't really written any angst fics before, so bear with me.

**Dream Woman, Ch. 1**

..Where...?...

...Where... are you... going?...

The air was cool and moist, smelling of damp earth, but as Lotor ran across the uneven terrain below his feet, a swift breeze howled like a beast in pain past his tapered ears, numbing him to his core. He could feel his heart pounding steadily within his temples, and rivulets of sweat dripped down his broad forehead, blurring his vision.

Screwing his felinoid eyes shut momentarily, Lotor continued on. As his warm breath caused small clouds of fog to appear, the mysterious question that battered his mind relentlessly returned again, unbidden.

...Where are you going?...

...Where are you going?...

...Why?...

The bleak hills and twisted vegetation of his dark surroundings could not inspire an answer, yet his legs continued to move, as if with a will of their own, towards his mysterious destination.

Stumbling across some large rocks, the Prince of Doom caught himself before his body completely sprawled out across the earth, and, swearing under his breath, brought himself back up to his feet. The gibbous moon overhead illuminated the ground, despite the overcast sky, and he could see that the dense undergrowth of his surreal environment was now converging together, closing in on his path.

...Where are you going?...

The inquiry was growing more distinct within his mind, a voice that was both alien and unsettlingly familiar.

"Who are you?!" Lotor roared, clutching at his icy mane.

His loud cries were soon lost within the thickening vegetation. As if to mock him, the questioning whisper curled around his conscience like a slumbering animal, not quite tormenting him, yet not entirely acknowledging his challenge, either.

...Where are you going?...

Tearing at his pale hair, the Drule prince issued a maddened scream and ran into the warped forest of trees that lay ahead of him, uncaring of the jagged branches that tore at his uniform.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Lotor's massive body blindly crashed into the undergrowth. He desperately wanted to escape the almost otherworldly presence in his mind, but it was as if something else was drawing him deeper into the woods.

...Where are you going?...

His heart was pounding again, and the first beginnings of fear-sweat beaded his forehead. It was one thing to face an enemy in combat, one that you could physically see, but when it wasn't even there...! ...Was it a telepath who was driving him to madness?

Knocking aside a small, knobby tree, Lotor forced his knotted muscles to halt when he realized that he had come into a clearing.

...Where are you going?...

Gritting his teeth, he whipped his head back, causing his long mane to flare out behind him.

"Where are you?!" he challenged loudly as he clenched his fists tightly, "Come out where I can see you! Or are you such a coward that you hide where no one can find you, attacking the mind where no one can stop you?!"

The only answer he received was his own demanding question returning to him as it echoed within the newfound glen. Lotor's saffron stare scanned the area, but he could see nothing that stood out against the dreamlike ambience of the surrounding forest. This did nothing to ease his tension.

He then heard it, faintly at first, a sweet music that trickled softly into his ears and raised gooseflesh on the azure skin his torn clothing had exposed.

...What madness is this?..., the Drule prince asked himself wonderingly, allowing his hands to relax and return to his sides.

Surely if someone had intended to attack him, they would have done it by now... wouldn't they? Uncertainty was the one thing that he did not like.

Despite his mounting suspicions, he allowed himself to follow the musical will-o-the-wisp. The swelling chords hung in the air, pregnant with the promise of questions to be answered. All of his being screamed for him to halt, but the music was recognizable... somehow... It possessed many qualities, but malignancy did not seem to be among them. Lotor gently shook his head as he felt the seraphic presence surround him again. The smell of Terran chrysanthemums filled his nostrils, dredging up distant, half-forgotten memories from his childhood.

Lotor's continued footfalls on the earth were silent, and when he came around a bend, he found the source of the beckoning music that he had been seeking.

Ahead of him, a figure... someone... was in a small clearing, isolated from the larger one. Her... or was it a man?... back was facing him, and she was seated upon a mossy rock beneath a particularly warped tree, a small harp of sorts in her lap. A voluminous blue cloak covered her frame, and she continued to pluck away at the instrument, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

Spellbound, the Prince of Doom hesitatingly tread towards her, unsure if he should seek out her identity or simply walk away. It felt as if he should know this person... For the longest time, he merely stood behind her, staring in wonderment. ...Was it she who had been tormenting him as he tore through the undergrowth of this strange world?

Lotor's defenses went back up as the woman abruptly stopped in the midst of her playing and set the stringed instrument down softly on the ground.

"Where are you going?" her voice retained a distinct crystalline femininity, despite the firm manner in which the question was asked, "Where are you going...C'ha'el Loto'or?"

His fears confirmed, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Who... are you... and how do you know my true name?"

"There is very little I don't know of you, C'ha'el," the woman's cloak rustled a little as she finally stood up and turned to face him, "Where are you going? What path will you take?"

Lotor blanched as the woman's cowl fell away, revealing a face that he had only caught evanescent glimpses of during his lifetime. His father had all but destroyed any and all records and holos of her, but, from time to time, he could recall a brief, comforting voice and the fleeting scent of chrysanthemums...

Her body was petite, birdlike; he could've easily broken her with his own two hands had he chosen to. But for the first time in his life, Lotor, conqueror of worlds, heir to the empire of King Zarkon, felt compelled to fall to his knees before another.

"...M...Mother?" the low utterance barely escaped his trembling lips.

A small smile curving across her delicate features, she reached down and lovingly caressed his white mane.

"My little C'ha'el..."

With a small sob, Lotor embraced her lower body tightly and buried his face into her cloak. As all of the anger, vengeance, and hostility that lurked within him inexplicably dissolved away, his prone body shook as if he would melt into a very sea of tears. For what seemed like an eternity, he simply knelt there, the balm of her presence purging the last of the scalding emotions.

Finally, he drew in a long, shuddering breath, and was still. The woman in blue above him gently brushed his disheveled hair back behind his tapered ears, and he could feel her motioning for him to return to his feet. He slowly removed himself from the damp earth, and he towered over her, but she seemed to be of an even greater power than he.

Her fingertips traced a path of warmth across his cheek, and she drew his face down towards her own. "C'ha'el... you must look deeper..."

Barely breathing, he forced himself to look, actually look, at her for the first time since stumbling upon her presence, and he felt apprehensive of what he might find, although for the life of him he could not explain why. He journeyed past the tranquil countenance, past the wheat-hued mane, all the way to her eyes, and... His own opened with fear and awe. Her eyes... They were familiar, and yet...

Her gaze was as placid as the ocean, but beneath the surface... there was something intangible, but most definitely there... a profound, ageless wisdom that had witnessed the births and deaths of countless galaxies.

"You are her, but... ...Who are you really?" Lotor whispered as silent realization traveled down his spine.

She leaned forward, gently intoning, "You are correct, C'ha'el... I am your mother, but I am also what was, what is, and what will be."

Unable to bear the unearthly stare she had fixated on him any longer, the Drule prince broke away from her. "I-I don't understand... Why did you lead me here?"

"What path will you take?" she repeated distantly, "Where are you going, son of Zarkon?"

Lotor exhaled sharply as if he had been dealt a blow, "Do not call me by that name."

Her brilliant eyes dimmed a little with sadness as she spoke again, "You cannot deny your parentage, C'ha'el."

Nonplussed, he reasked his question. "What is it that you want with me?"

"You destiny is one of the most unique I have ever come across, C'ha'el, in the fact that you have a choice," she replied, unphased.

"But I don't-"

The woman sported the inkling of a maternal smile that expressed an infinite patience, "I do not need for you to understand, C'ha'el, not yet, but merely to listen... I love you as my son, never doubt that, but you have done terrible things... terrible, horrible things," her pale visage tightened as she clenched her jaw before she allowed it to soften again, "And yet, you walk a path that will lead this galaxy into the light... or deliver it into the utter darkness."

Lotor stood, statuesque, unsure of what to say, but even as his mouth opened to issue forth a confused protest, her finger tenderly went up against his pursed lips and silenced the rebuttal. "In time, you will understand the words that I speak, but in your heart, you know that you are not your father... nor do you have to become his creature... You have a choice, C'ha'el, to atone for your deeds and bring a prosperity that has yet to be known to the planets... or will you obligingly continue along this path to self-destruction?"

Her oceanic stare seemed to rip at the fabric of his being with a force too great to bear.

"I ask you again, C'ha'el, what path will you take? The climb will be arduous, but the alternative slides into the depths of depravity... Where will you go?"

"I... I..."

For the first time in his life, the Drule prince was rendered speechless.

As his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, she chuckled a little to herself and affectionately tousled his mane, although she had to reach on tiptoe in order to do this. "My little one... A time will come when these words will fade as a distant memory, but be sure that when you see me again, that they will come back to you."

Swallowing nervously, Lotor cleared his dry throat before speaking. "And when will that be?"

"Perhaps sooner than you think," the woman winked facetiously, "Although you will not realize it at first, you will make your presence known to me... quite often... at great length... whether if I desire it or not."

"I... uh..."

He was still incredulous, unsure of what to say or what to believe.

She smiled warmly at him once more as she ran her palm lovingly along the smooth, azure skin of his face. "Until then, C'ha'el..."

He managed to locate his voice just then, but even as he cried out, "Wait!", desiring further answers, the glade was suddenly empty, save for himself. As the moonlight filtered into the clearing, the only evidence that there had even been another being with him was the discarded instrument on the ground, next to the large, moss-covered rock.

* * *

Lotor's golden eyes snapped open when he sat bolt-upright in bed, his chest heaving as he gasped out loud. Thin streams of perspiration pasted strands of his wild mane to his forehead. He frantically scanned his sleeping quarters, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. All uniforms and weapons were properly stowed away, and the thick windows of the cruiser offered a view of their current destination, the Crimson Quadrant of the Denubian Galaxy. Nothing unusual.

...Then what the hell was that!...

Breathing slower in an attempt to calm down, he gradually allowed his common sense to return, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that there had been someone with him, or the eerie, prickling sensation at the base of his spine.

...I... should know of our progress..., Lotor thought to himself as he padded towards a closet for a uniform, although deep inside, he knew that he was merely searching for an excuse to leave the room.

The Prince of Doom hastily made himself presentable before exiting his quarters.

When he entered the bridge, he stalked towards his second-in-command, a rather ambiguous, hooded Drule who nonetheless possessed excellent leadership skills.

Massaging his temples, Lotor tiredly questioned him. "Mogor, what is our status?"

"We are almost home, Sire," he responded lightly before looking at him with concern, "Are you feeling well?"

The Drule prince nodded distractedly, wiping away a light sheen of sweat from his forehead. "Yes... I... It was just a dream... I don't remember everything, only that... it felt too real." In an attempt to steer the conversation into another direction, he added, "Approximately how many hours before we arrive?"

"Two and a half, sire," Mogor said casually, leaning back at his post.

Crossing his arms across his broad chest, Lotor leaned against a bulkhead and stated dryly, "So, two and half hours before we find out what ineptness has prevented my father from conquering that backwater planet... Very well, it will be a challenge, then." He smirked to himself for the first time since he woke up from that haunting dream, "You know, Mogor, I think I'm getting too old for this shit... so imagine what that means for my father!"

Chuckling, his commander grunted in assent.

Sighing, Lotor allowed himself to fall into a seat adjacent to the Drule officer. As the following moments of reflective silence grew into minutes, he found himself struggling to remember the reverie that pervaded his sleep. All that he could recall was a presence... and a pair of eyes as blue as the sea, accompanied by the scent of flowers...

Despite the vagueness of the dream, he still felt inexplicably spooked.

...What happened?...

He shook his head slightly, bemused.

Well, there were other things that demanded his attention at the moment, namely accomplishing what that fool Yurak had failed miserably at.

...After all, how difficult can it be to take down a sentinel that's older than my father?...

Lotor's only answer was Mogor's long, steady breathing and the blinding brilliance of the stars of the Crimson Quadrant.

**End**


End file.
